


04:38

by masserect



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Community: masseffectkink, F/F, F/M, Masturbation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masserect/pseuds/masserect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a request for "masturbating Jacob" fic on Masskink. This is one of those. (Also contains Miranda/Femshep and Miranda/f!Shep/Jacob, in Jacob's dreams.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	04:38

The alarm did not go off, and Jacob grunted, rolled over and hit his clock with a balled-up fist.

Then, he blinked up at the dark ceiling and turned his head to the side. The clock, still intact (military models were sturdy) showed 04:38. Almost an hour before he was supposed to get up.

He vaguely remembered a dream, something about a woman with a rather inhumanly flexible tongue, but details were vague.

_Shit._ Waking early was bad enough. Waking up right in the middle of a wet dream with a painfully throbbing erection was worse. He freed it from the restricting confines of his boxers (all he had worn to bed) and gave his dick a disapproving glare.

"The hell do you want?"

His penis, lacking vocal cords, didn't say anything. It just pointed accusingly at the ceiling, wobbling a bit with each beat of his heart. This wasn't just morning wood. This was the kind of wood you got when you got your body's hopes up and left it hanging. The kind of wood that never fucking goes away.

He glanced at the clock again. 04:39.

Fuck it, his pants were uncomfortably tight without that thing trying to split the seams. He _was_ up early, and as awful as that may seem, it at least meant that he had time for a quick wank and a shower before his shift started.

One hand wrapped slowly around the base of his prick, palm cupping his balls, fingers just barely managing to surround his girth. He'd always been a little miffed by that 'black guys are huge' stereotype - he wasn't big because he was black, he was big because he was _Jacob motherfucking Taylor_ ; dark skin was just a bonus.

Closing his eyes, he tried to recall a fragment of his dream. She'd been dark-haired... long, dark hair. Slightly curly. 

_Oh fuck. Miranda._

It had always seemed weird to fantasize about people he knew. But Miranda, she was... she was a special case. She had already shown him everything she had to show (and there was a _lot_ to show), quite willingly, and she likely wouldn't mind... or be terribly surprised... if she knew.

_Miranda._ He pictured her in her old white outfit, the one she hadn't been wearing in a while - he missed that suit. He knew every zipper, every seal on it. He could pull her out of it in the wink of an eye.

His right hand began to stroke his aching erection, slow and long strokes from root to tip. _Miranda._ He counted the seconds it would take to strip her - nine, boots included. (Damn, he was good.)

Except that it wasn't Miranda, once he got her out of it. The hair was shorter, the face different - not as _perfect_ , but beautiful in its own way...

_Double fuck._

The Commander was - well, she was quite a woman. He couldn't figure her out. Sometimes she seemed to lead him on; other times, she simply seemed cold. 

Cold, but pretty.

His hand had faltered slightly, but he found himself picking up speed. Shepard's body wasn't familiar to him, so his mind filled in the blanks. Smaller breasts. Smaller nipples, too, and darker than Miranda's pink ones. 

Pink and brown rubbed together as the two women embraced and kissed before his mind's eye. Both naked. Shepard had a knee up between Miranda's thighs, grinding against her. Miranda had never been weak, but Shepard made her look soft - Shepard was a _fighter_ , chiselled and honed. Muscles rippled under her skin as she fisted a hand in Miranda's long, dark hair and pulled, forcing her head back. Miranda moaned as Shepard bit her neck and shoulder, moving down towards her breasts.

The tip of his cock was slick with pre-come. It made small, barely audible wet noises when he pumped his fist up and down. A drop trickled down his shaft, then his hand, and dripped of his knuckles. His left hand rose slowly, fingers splayed across his stomach and chest. Miranda had liked to run her hands over him like that, a long time ago. 

His fingers brushed a nipple, darker still than Shepard's in his mind, and already hard. He tugged at it, hard, and grit his teeth against the pain. Miranda's fingers. Miranda's nails. She liked using her nails. 

Nails. Yeah. Miranda would use her nails on Shepard, too. Claw her shoulders, her back. Red welts sprang up on Shepard's scarred skin, and the Commander growled against Miranda's chest. She was biting and sucking, leaving marks on Miranda's flawless pale skin; her fingers were kneading Miranda's ass, and she was leaving marks there, too. Bruises. Miranda never minded a few bruises.

He found himself breathing harder, his right hand moving faster. 

Fuck, if he was doing this already, why not go all the way? He couldn't imagine either of them as submissive, but he could imagine them on their knees. Both trying to suck him off, struggling for dominance between them even as their tongues caressed the length of his cock.

Sweat beaded on his skin, ran in rivulets off him and soaked into the sheets, making them cling to his back and shoulders. His right hand pumped faster still, left fumbling across his chest. 

Miranda had no gag reflex. He remembered his balls bouncing off her chin. Shepard probably couldn't match that, but she'd be... enthusiastic. In his head, the Commander pushed Miranda aside and wrapped her lips around his cock, sinking down, taking almost half of it before starting to pull back again. 

_Fuck..._

Miranda was behind the Commander now, fingering her as she sucked him. Shepard moaned around his cock, tongue vibrating against him.

_Fuck...!_

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he knew his hand must be a blur now, pulling back and forth with short, fast strokes, thumb and forefinger wrapped tightly around the sensitive head. Warm pre-come dribbled down his knuckles. He could feel the familiar tightening in his balls, the building tension in his stomach, and knew he was nearing the point of no return.

He saw no reason to hold back.

Growling deep in his throat, he arched his back and thrust his hips hard against his stroking hand. The tingly, prickly tension that had built in his abdomen gathered and crept out into his cock, until it seemed to buzz.

Another stroke, another thrust, and the sensation seemed to shoot out of him, like he had some kind of Thanix cannon strapped between his legs, shooting streams of molten metal into space. He imagined pulling back just in time to coat Shepard and Miranda's faces with his first load, then spurt the second over Shepard's tits (and Miranda's hands, which were groping them roughly); another spurt, and Shepard caught it on her tongue. He thrust back inside and felt her swallow the next, mouth and tongue working against him, and then pulled back once more to watch Miranda smear the sticky fluid over the Commander's features.

He ignored the sensation of warm droplets spattering on his chest and stomach, right up until one caught him across the chin. He licked his lips; salty. Miranda had liked when he came on her tits and licked her clean after. Closest she ever got to coming without his tongue, cock or fingers between her legs. This was nowhere near as erotic.

His cock gave one last feeble twitch and before long, it was shrinking back down to a more manageable state. He kicked off his boxers; used them to wipe the goop off himself. Not as much as he had imagined shooting over the women in his head, but enough to leave the cloth soggy. He tossed it in the garbage disposal unit; he had plenty of pairs.

Then he turned his head. The clock was showing 05:13. Still plenty of time. He stood up, pulled on his pants and pulled a towel out of his cupboard.

That shower was looking very attractive right now.


End file.
